


Darling, our scars make us who we are

by SuchaPrettyPoison



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Alternate Universe - Tattoos, F/M, HEA Guaranteed, Humor, Like - I cannot stress the amount of sexual tension, Mental Health Issues, Past referenced self harm, Romance, Sexual electricity is like the force bond - right?, Soft Ben Solo, Tattoo Artist Ben, Tattooed Ben Solo, Tattooed Rey, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-02-23 14:30:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23546344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuchaPrettyPoison/pseuds/SuchaPrettyPoison
Summary: “I’m not saying that I hate you, but I will say that you are my least favourite person at the moment.” She said. Her face contorted in pain and yet she remained still.“Could it have to do with the fact that I’m repeatedly stabbing you with a needle?”-Ben is a tattoo artist specializes in scar cover-up tattoos. Rey wants her scars from her past to be something she can find beauty in.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey & Ben Solo, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 149
Kudos: 693





	1. I see that colors are everything

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter: [SuchaPrettyPSN](https://twitter.com/suchaprettypsn/)  
>   
> Tumblr: [SuchaPrettyPoison](http://www.suchaprettypoison.tumblr.com/)  
>   
> Content Warning: There will be mentions of self-harm scars as well as mental health issues in this story.
> 
> Inspiration from [Rainbow](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sd5dcjXzuGk) by Kesha  
>   
> 

Not much rattled him these days.   
_Fuck-_ not much evoked much emotion as the medication he took always seemed to numb, to dull everything around him. Ben knew he needed to go back, to talk to the doctors, but that required an energy that he couldn’t bring himself to have. This was fine. Everything was one note, and he didn’t want to risk backsliding all because he didn’t want to live in a fog.  
Living in half-darkness was ideal to being, _feeling_ , too much. He was content with just going through the motions of being alive, of living a muted life, because at least he was alive.

But then saw her and something sparked in him that he had long ago suppressed. Desire for more.

She was backlit by the dying sun; the rays still strong enough to blind but caused her to look like she was stepping out of the fire as she stepped into his shop. She was made up of long lines and elegant soft angles, and as she entered his world, she brought the kaleidoscope of the light of that dying sun with her. He couldn’t tear his gaze from her.

First Order Tattoo Shop was made up of a small crew, with only two other artists including himself, Hux and Phas, then their piercer and receptionist Poe. They each had a role to play in the shop; a specialty in the service that they offered. And he knew, _knew,_ that she was there for him and what he could provide for her. There was a pull to her, an understanding that he couldn’t quite comprehend.  
He was in the middle of working on a piece, his client was out front having a quick smoke break, which gave him momentary freedom to track her as she took the last two steps to the reception counter where Poe was shooting the shit with Phas.

The woman pushed her shoulder length hair behind her ear and gave a faint smile, like one does when they are trying to appear calm and collected in an environment that was out of their comfort zone. Her eyes shifting back to the shops entrance through her discussion with Poe, who was gracing her with one of his easy charming smiles. And Ben felt, he actually felt, the faintest tinge of jealousy coming to the surface. That Poe was getting the chance to talk this woman who walked in on light and brought colors in with her, a woman who made him want to walked up and push Poe out of the way so that he could be the one to assist her. And where the fuck did that thought come from?  
The faintest bit of her voice lilting toward him over the sound of Hux’s tattoo machine and the music that Phas had playing to give the shop ‘ambiance’; but it wasn’t nearly enough, he wanted to hear her properly. He felt empty – hollow – and like just hearing her voice could fill a void he didn’t know he had until that moment. Ben let his hand come to rest on his thigh, his fingers digging in that he knew he would leave bruises, that when he took the jeans off he’d have marks reminding him of this moment.  
With a nod, she gave Poe one last smile, before turning on the balls of her feet and made her way out of the shop. Pausing as she opened the door, letting the final rays of the sun to cascade into the shop, vivifying the view as the light danced across her like it belonged to her.   
The woman turned her head as if she felt his gaze on her.   
Their eyes met for a heartbeat of time, her lips parted, she stepped out into the fading light.  
For the first time, in a long while, he wanted to feel something.  
He needed to stop living in a haze where he didn’t feel alive.

-

It was two months after he’d decided to talk to his doctors about his dosage.   
Two months where he was coming to terms with feeling, feeling everything. It wasn’t as heightened as it had been during his adolescent years, but after spending so long in a haze everything seemed to over stimulate his senses, and he was having to work with new coping mechanisms as well as his tried true ones. He spent a solid hour to two each day working out, burning off the excess raw energy; his body craved a form of release and he could give it that much. But when he was working, when he couldn’t drop everything and run, he now hand to stop and take account what was around him when he felt himself becoming lost in it all. The only time he felt truly grounded and in his own skin was when he was when his complete attention was on his art; it kept him in the moment, gave him away to express the overabundance of sensations that coursed through him.   
It was his touchstone.

He hadn’t been prepared to see her. Hadn’t prepared himself for how bright she made the colors around her. Hadn’t prepared for the way his body reacted.   
She was leaning over the partition which separated the clients from the reception area, laughing at something that Hux’s client had said. Her laugh felt like all the colors surrounding them became brighter with her joy. It caused him to stop in his tracks.

The dark-haired woman who was being inked threw a biting barb at Hux, and Ben’s brow lifted at the way his friend’s lips twitched faintly upward in an almost indiscernible way. Hux was a self-proclaimed ‘pompous arrogant prick’ and wore that title like a heavy crown. But the woman who he was tattooing seemed to have cracked that veneer he had in place, which was only noticeable because they had known each other for so long. Hux worked his machine with even practiced strokes, even as he traded back comments with his client. Ben could see the explosion of colors from across the room and over the partition thanks to his height – it was a stunning watercolor piece that took up most of the side of the woman’s thigh and gave the sense of blooming hope.   
Ben would grudgingly admit that Hux was an excellent artist and one of the best in his specialties, even though their friendship wasn’t one built on compliments and high praise; it was more like they were two surely cats who enjoyed each other’s company, because they had no one else.

But the stunning piece of art that was being tattooed, didn't hold a candle to the woman who was chatting to Hux’s client. Looking perfectly at ease in her skin in the light strappy dress. A light respectable dress of thin material, that when caught the light just the right way that one could see her slight form backlit under the fabric. It was sweetly decadent, all innocent and highly feminine. Yet hidden power hummed under her skin, he could make out the flex of her well-toned muscles which spoke to the fact that she was more than the delicate woman she first appeared to be.

Cutting his gaze away from studying her, he forced himself to continue over to where Poe was finishing up on a call, their booking system displayed on the computer in front to him. Ben leaned over, glancing at his color in the system, it was going to be a day of nearly back to back appointments. Cracking his neck, he tried to mentally prepare himself for the day ahead of him.  
This is what he loved. This was a way that he helped heal his fractured soul.  
He couldn’t spend the day staring at pretty girls who were made of light. It was amazing how someone could appear so open, but in the same breath be closed off. He wanted her to sit for him, just so that he could put pen to paper and try to capture her essence because it was near intoxicating. Ben’s attention began to stray, back to said girl – just for one more look, he could be allowed one more look – only for Poe’s voice to pull him back from his wayward thoughts.

“Your consultation is here by the way.” 

Ben replied with a low hum of question, bringing his complete focus on the man who effectively ran his shop, so he didn’t have too. Poe gave a light jerk of his chin, signaling where Ben needed to guide his attention. He followed the line, and the universe smiled down on him because he was looking at the ray of light who had captured his attention.

“The girl hanging out by Hux. She’s yours.”

_She’s yours._

That spoke to the darkness that enveloped his soul.  
He pulled in his lips knowing he had to pull himself together. Had to get his emotions and body under control. His gaze was too intense on the girl, who at that moment looked over her bare shoulder and met his look straight on. Her lips which were pulled into a smile became lax and soft. He watched as her chest expanded, tightening the thin fabric of her dress till it was pulled taut across her skin. Fascinating. Stunning. Mesmerizing. He wanted to run his fingers over it, wondered if he could feel her heat through the fabric. Wondered if he worked his mouth over the points where her nipple were, if he dampened the fabric with his tongue, worked the buds with his teeth, would he be able to see them – would the material become translucent, revealing her nipples to him?  
She released the breath slowly. Her body loosening as she did so, the pink of her tongue peeking out to wet her bottom lip.   
Ben knew his stare was too forceful, too direct, intimidating, but he couldn’t seem to soften it. With certain clients he tended to hunch his large form, attempting to make himself appear non-threatening, which was a challenge given his height, breadth and fact that he was heavily tattooed and pierced. But with this girl, this woman, he wanted her to see him in all his darkness and intensity. Part of him wanted to scare her away. Wanted her to see who he was beyond the exterior he chose to show the world.   
And he wanted her to do the same with him.

She was taking him in with a faux lazy perusal. He doubted there was a lazy bone in this girl. He watched as something shifted in her wide eyes as he moved toward her as though she were his prey, and her eyes taunted him with a wild playfulness that went to his head. His abdomen tightened; his cock gave notice, hardening somewhat at just the look in her eyes. This woman made him feel alive.

“Your mine?” He asked in a deep rough voice that sounded slightly foreign even to his own ears and fought back a cringe at his choice of words. His mother would not have been amused at him asking a woman that upon their first interact. This was not how to make a good first impression.   
_Fucking hell. Come on, get it together. You’ve interacted with people before._

“Depends,” her accented English was softer than the poised aristocratic way Hux spoke. It made him think of humid languid London nights and a tempting woman calling him back to bed on a laugh, “Are you Kylo?”

He was.   
But with this woman he didn’t want to be. He wanted to hear his name on his lips, to watch as they formed the words. Wanted to know that the taste of his name had been on her tongue.  
He gave a slight nod, watching as she actually seemed to relaxed under his too severe gaze, her body angling toward his like she felt the pull as well. That teasing smile pulling back at her lips and the sunlight followed.

“Then yes. I’m yours. Rey.”

Rey.  
The name suited her perfectly. He couldn’t help himself but repeat it back to her, enjoying the way her pupils dilated at the way he said her name. Her focus spilt between his eyes and lips.   
She offered him her hand. Roughened with callouses, dark colors looking long embedded in the skin around her nails; she worked with her hands. He took it in his own; his large mitt engulfed her delicate one, observing the way her eyes widened and her breath caught as their skin touched.   
Electric was too dull a word to use.  
Two stars colliding would be a more apt description.  
It felt - _cosmic_.


	2. What's left of my heart's still made of gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m not saying that I hate you, but I will say that you are my least favourite person at the moment.” She said. Her face contorted in pain and yet she remained still. Didn’t flinch from his needle.  
> She was an absolute fucking rock.
> 
> “Could it have to do with the fact that I’m repeatedly stabbing you with a needle?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: There will be mentions of self-harm scars as well as mental health issues in this story.
> 
> Inspiration from [Rainbow](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sd5dcjXzuGk) by Kesha  
>   
> 

* * *

The skirt of her dress was held up with her graceful hands, so he could view an expanse of her waist, hip, and leg, with only the band of her underwear breaking up the elegant line of her body. Warm, honey skin, marked with a multitude of precise white scars. Self-inflicted scars that mimicked the ones marked the inside of his forearm. Scars which he had covered up with both art and long sleeves and rarely shared with the word.

 _Let the past die._   
It was why he specialized in covering scars. In giving people a new life. In allowing those who needed it, a way to look at themselves and not feel haunted by ghosts that pulled them under. Those who didn’t want the constant visual reminder of a point in their life. For those who felt foreign or unsettled in their skin. This was a way he could help.

“What are you looking for?” He asked with what he hoped was the appropriate amount of professional interest as he looked at the flawed canvas that was perfect in its imperfection. Immediately envisioning bright colors and summer days, the feeling that invoked, inked on her skin to battle the dark – because that’s what he saw when he looked at her. 

“Sunflowers,” she gave a nervous chuckle mixed with a bright smile, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “I mean, I’m open to other ideas, but I know that I want sunflowers to be the main focal point, maybe some butterflies. And I’m looking from about my waist to high on my thigh.” She used her graceful hands to indicate to the stretch of skin she would give him to work with.

He gave a hum of approval, his sketch pad in hand. The black latex gloves he wore during the consultation gave the feeling of this being a clinical procedure as he examined her skin, noticing every finely crafted puckered line, taking notes as she spoke. He could feel her watching his hand as it swiftly moved across the page, and he attempted to make his writing more legible – as if that was something, she would judge him on. He felt like an insect under a magnifying glass with this woman, which was both fascinating and terrifying as fuck all.  
Particularly as he was supposed to be in charge of the consultation. This should have been the opportunity for him to have a clear upper hand, to work at ensuring she was comfortable. And here she was, making him feel nearly ready to come out of his skin, by the way she looked at him like she saw everything he tried to hide.

The moment they had gotten to his station she’d bunched up the material of her dress without a hint of hesitation. All bright impulsive spirit. Turning his back, he took the time to collect himself and put on the gloves; listening as she rattled on praising his talents, thankful for his too long hair shielding the way his ear colored at the deluge of compliments she had been throwing his way.   
He was a professional.  
He was top in his field.   
Award winning.   
He shouldn’t be blushing because a pretty woman was complimenting him in the sweetest accent with her skirts up about her waist.  
He was mature. He was in control.  
Fuck, he had never gotten full control back. It was always a constant battle. He was always ready to strike out, it simmered just below the surface a dark and ugly thing that made him feel broken and violate. But he wasn’t. He wasn’t supposed to think of himself in that way. He wasn’t broken, his brain chemistry was just different, he felt too much. Yet, he had been strong enough to ask for help – to choose to start living knowing the torrent of emotions that could possibly consume him, make him feel like he was drowning, to do anything to make him feel control. But he wasn’t drowning, he was swimming, even if at times it required more will power to stay afloat; therapy and medication and sheer mental fortitude kept him from his impulsive needs. He knew rock bottom. He knew living in a fog. Now he was trying to lead a life he could be proud of.

Part of him wanted nothing more than to just ask her out there and then.  
But she was a client.   
Off limits.  
He was in control. He could handle dealing with a single pretty woman.  
This had quickly become a mantra.  
And besides, pretty women with the sun in their eyes did not choose to settle down with hulking tattoo artists – no matter how respected he was in his community. He didn’t have a chance with her.   
This was part of the procedure.   
Nothing more.

“But I want it done as black and grey lined, where the scars become part of the flowers. I want, _need_ , to see them. As part of something beautiful.” She absently ran her fingers over the lines, her jaw clenching before looking up and meeting his gaze, giving him a sugary smile.

“Don’t do that.” His words came out harsher than he intended, but he hated the mask she easily slid in place. It grated at the raw darkness in him.

Her smile faded. Confusion knitting at her brow, he watched the light in her eyes dim and some of his own darkness stared back at him.   
Fuck. He’d fucked up.  
He had been too harsh.

“Don’t,” he cleared his throat will his voice to soften, to get the point that she didn’t need to put up a front with him. Not in this place. He wanted to reach out and cup her cheek and give her the physical comfort he innately knew she needed. But he couldn’t. He clenched his hands into fists with enough force that his nails cut through his gloves. “Don’t smile when you don’t want to. It’s okay not to smile.”

“I know.” A self-deprecating chuckle escaped her lips, and she leaned in as if to tell him a secret. Her hand resting idly on his sketchbook, inches from his own. She was too close, too tempting. He swore he could see his own future in her vivid hazel eyes, “But if I fake it enough, maybe one day it’ll be real. And I want it to be real.”

* * *

The next time he saw her was the day of their first session. She was with the woman that Hux had been tattooing last time. Wearing the same thin dress as last time, holding two large coffees and a bag of gummy bears, her foot tapping out a nervous staccato even while the rest of her appeared to be completely at ease. The friend was talking animatedly, while Rey smiled and actively listened. She was going through the motions – like there was a guide on how to appear happy and content. How was it he could see her so clearly, when everyone around them just saw the perfect facade she wore?

As though she could feel his intense gaze, she turned her head to meet his stare; his heart kicked hard in his chest and came to settle somewhere in his throat. _Perfect._ He gave her a slight head nod, as he went about setting up his station for their first session, his nerves firing, sweat breaking out along the back of his neck.

She was going to be seeing the piece he created for her – for the first time. A piece that he had put more than a part of his soul into.   
After their initial session, he had taken pictures of where she wanted, dimensions of the space to work with, and had spent hours perfecting the design. He pulled on the black latex gloves, setting up pots of ink.  
Getting himself mentally prepared for a long intimate session.   
For showing Rey his design. A design that had kept him up, a need to perfect it. A design that she wanted him to ink on her body. She’d chosen him to do this for her. He hoped to live up to all her expectations.

“Hey you.” 

At the sound of her warm voice, Ben raised his gaze, to meet her brilliant gaze, color high on her cheeks, as she held out one of the coffees. The smile she wore was nervous and excited, and all her.

“Kinda was a creep and called up to ask what your poison was. Didn’t have you as a sweet and light caramel latte kinda guy.”

“I have a big sweet tooth.”

“I bet you do.” Her face flushed as she pulled in her lips and closed her eyes.   
She was fucking adorable.   
Was she flirting with him? Or just being nice?   
He let himself take that moment to memorize the dusting of freckles across the bridge of her pert nose; mini galaxies.  
He really fucking hoped she was flirting with him.

“Do you want to see what I’ve come up with?” 

He took a sip, trying to have the air of confidence about him, because that was what was expected, like he wasn’t teetering on an edge of whether or not she liked his design. Like she wouldn’t fucking tear his heart out if she rejected the design.  
He had the stencil ready to go, but had the rendering on his tablet, so she could view the placement and what the outcome he envisioned was. And if need be, he would do a new stencil if she hated what she saw. This was about her. Always about her.  
The client – it was about the client.

She nodded her head giving him a bright smile. Coming beside him, standing just barely too close, Rey leant over to look at the image of her on the screen of his tablet. He could feel the warmth from her saturating its way into him and burrowing under his skin, his balls tightening at the way her breath caught in her throat. He could imagine the way that sound could transform into a sound of pleasure. Those large stunning eyes of hers, meeting his, and he had to fight a reflex that wanted to wipe away the tears that were beginning to pool.   
Rey gave a watery laugh, swiping at her eyes with the back of her hand.  
She was brilliant.

“Alright Kylo. Where and how do you want me?”

His brain short circuited.

* * *

They were three hours in, and Ben had found his rhythm pulling his line work, putting in a bit of his heart and soul into every fine detail, going in with as gentle of a touch as possible to cause as little pain to Rey.   
Rey who had opted not to bring headphones and instead insisted on talking.   
To him.  
No one ever actively chose to speak to him during his sessions. He knew he gave off an energy that did not invite conversation, that he tended to only give a few word answers, but his clients didn’t come to him for his sparkling conversation skills. They came to him because he was the best. Normally after the stencil was on and he had his machine ready to go, clients would put on their music and let him get to it.

Not Rey. Even with all that cream and honey skin on display, she appeared completely at ease in his company, even as he could see the way her pulse fluttered in her neck as a dead giveaway of her nerves, even as her breathing hitched almost imperceptibly every time he touched her – and it wasn’t because of the need.  
She talked to him. Had him talking back to her – as though having in depth personal conversations was a thing he did. It was not a thing he did.  
Not even in his personal life.  
But this wisp of a woman had him talking. Pulling smiles from him.

“I’m not saying that I hate you, but I will say that you are my least favourite person at the moment.” She said, her face contorted in pain and yet she remained still. Didn’t flinch from his needle.   
She was an absolute fucking rock.

“Could it have to do with the fact that I’m repeatedly stabbing you with a needle?” His voice was low and intimate with a soft chuckle lacing through. 

“I’m thinking that that comes into play. Also, that you are making me stay still isn’t playing in your favour. It’s like the moment you told me not to move, all I’ve wanted to do is fidget.”

“You’ll be pissed if you do. Now be good and stay still. I want to finish the line work today. You can take a break after I finish this section.”

“How kind of you sir.”

He had to take a settling breath. She had to know what she was doing to him. Right?  
Ben quickly cut his eyes to hers, a teasing glint in her eyes that was difficult to look away from.  
She would wear that look going down on a man, she would take joy in teasing him, of bringing him to the edge and then pulling away. He wondered how long that glint would stay in her eyes as he spread her thighs, feasting on her cunt. Would she still be mouthy then? Would she take control, tell him exactly what she needed to come? Or would she be all breathy moans, his name a chant on her lips?

“Don’t be a brat, Sweetheart.” Fuck if his voice didn’t sound heavy and thick with his want of her.

She gave him a flash of her teeth biting her lower lip, before she released it, and he felt that simple movement straight to fucking cock.  
He had to focus on this outline. Not on her heat which he could feel permeating his gloves. Not the way she smelt, like sun and peaches, causing him to wonder if she tasted that way too. Not on the little sighs and moans of discomfort she was making. And, certainly, not on what those sighs and moans would sound like if she was in pleasure.

“You like me being a brat. Now answer the question.” Yeah, her voice was huskier. And that was not helping matters.  
Fucking hell.  
What was the question? Oh, right.

“I don’t have a favorite gummy bear because they have no flavor.”

“I don’t know if I can be your friend after a response like that.”

“Oh no, what did he say?” Rose, her friend who had been tattooed by Hux, was back. She had been there for the beginning helping Rey get settled in and had even had the nerve to threaten him even though he was at least double her size. And some part of him believed she would – that she was someone who would fight dirty if it meant protecting someone she loved. He had given her a nod of understanding.

“Gummy bears have no flavor.” Rey provided helpfully as he focused of the lines he was permanently inking into her skin.

“You won’t be saying that after you’ve had Rey’s vodka infused ones.” Rose placed the tall cans of ice-tea on the low partition, leaning over to inspect his work. On the solid outline he was placing down of wild sunflowers and butterflies, ensuring that her scars would be part of this work of art. As she had told him early, ‘I may be a bit broken and scar, but that doesn’t determine my self-worth.’   
He listened as they bickered, feeling oddly at ease.

“We are not getting Kylo drunk.”

“Not now we aren’t. But later, who knows. Maybe, Kylo here, would enjoy eating your gummy bears.”

“I swear to maker Rose! Do not scare him away.”

“He’s a big boy. I can’t scare you away from Rey. Right Kylo?”

No. No, he thought very little would scare him away from the woman he was currently tattooing. He liked Rose. She was straight forward without any artifice and it was refreshing, though he could imagine she was a walking tornado. Plus, she was wearing a shit eating grin. And she had one of those smiles that was contagious – so here he was, stoic Ben Solo, smiling at Rose. His gaze drifted up briefly to see Rey’s expression, and all of sudden he felt like he had past some sort of test.

“No. Doubt anything would scare me away.” And it felt like a promise.

* * *

So, he might have bought several bags of gummy bears in preparation of his next and final session with Rey, what he hadn’t prepared for was running into her and Rose at the dive bar near the shop. And he hadn’t been prepared to see Rey in a pair of cut jeans so that the art he inked on her skin was visibly along the side of her thigh – his mark on her – as she bent over the pool table angling up a shot.

He stopped dead in his tracks, as she gave Rose a wicked smile before sinking two balls with a single shot. Rey straighten and was moving to line up for her next shot, when she turned and met his gaze. It was as if this woman could feel him around her, her lips parts and her smile shifting the barest fraction which had his blood pulsing.  
He could imagine that smile as she was under him, taking his long deep strokes into her heated cunt. She would be someone that would make him smile while he fucked her, that smart mouth and wicked brain always keeping him on his toes. Rey was the kind of woman, who he imagined had no qualms in telling her lover exactly what she wanted, how to touch her, when to touch her.  
He wanted to press her against the pool table, to have his thigh pressed between her legs so he could feel her core heating as he kissed her, claimed her is a visceral way so that everyone in the dingy bar knew he was hers. 

That she claimed him and all of his undesired parts – that she wanted him even knowing he was as imperfect as they came.   
And fuck, she knew. 

When she had been busying collecting her stuff to leave his shop after their six-hour session, her eyes had caught on his forearm; his forearm which was expose with the way he’d pushed up his sleeve to his elbows. He had wanted her to see. The anatomical heart surrounded by a vibrate bloom of flowers as if they were sheltering it from the world, the fine horizontal scars visible only through the heart. He watched entranced as her fingers hovered over it, her eyes locked on the art, he’d brought his arm up to meet her touch. Nearly sighing at the electric charge of her skin meets his, he watched her marvel, her fingers burning where she touched. She looked up, her eyes meeting his. Her pink tongue peeking out to moisten her lips, she pulled in a breath, collected her inner strength and then she opened part of herself to him, “I did it to feel something. When I was younger, it was rough. I developed all these coping mechanisms to protect myself from getting hurt, and I grew apathetic. I started just to prove that I could still feel—anything.”

“I needed to feel in control. It was, calming, till it wasn’t. then it felt like the pain was what I deserved.”

  
“And now?” She had asked so sweetly, he hands on him, those luminous eyes staring up at him – so wild and open that it nearly floored him. His hand had come up, his forefinger crooking and coming to settling under her chin, his thumb barely brushing the underside of her perfect bottom lip. He bent his head to all but murmur his words, flaying himself open for her.

  
“I deserve good. Physical exertion, medication, and therapy help with the rest.”

The way she had looked at him, like he could move mountains, it was the best feeling in the world. And she was here. And he could possibly spend more time with her.  
Could he possibly be so lucky?

“Bloody fucking fridge. You’re blocking the entrance.” Hux’s autocratic English accent cut through Ben’s thoughts, bringing him back to the present moment. Only the minute the ginger side stepped Ben, he came up short, swearing under his breath, his eyes locked on Rose.  
Well.   
That was unexpected.

* * *

“Want me to teach you?” Rey’s voice coming to him in a darkened room, even if that room was a dingy bar, fucked with his head. He had hints of what her skin felt like, could smell her warm scent even with the stale odor of alcohol that marked the bar, and she was so close. 

It had fucked with his head, when she’d come over to him almost instantly and wrapped her arms around his neck, her body molding to his like they were made for each other. Her lips brushing along the column of his neck as she had tilted her head back to meet his gaze. Every part of him felt at contrast with her, like she was the sun and he the moon, she held more power than she could ever know. She had easily slipped her hand into his – delicate honey conflicting with his broad inked one, not that she seemed to mind – and had pulled him over to were her and Rose had been when he had entered.

“Teach me?” 

“Yeah. You’ve been watching. Don’t you think it’s time you got your toes wet?” And she was smiling at him, fucking smiling like this was the best thing, to be teasing him in a dive bar. There was no pretense, it was all Rey, and that was more than enough, “Come on Kylo.”

“What makes you think I don’t already know?” He asked, one of his eyebrows lifting in question.

“Oh, I’m sure you do. But, I also think I can maybe show you a few new moves.” She took a couple steps back and of course he shadowed. He could do little but follow wherever this woman wished to lead him. Fuck, he would follow her to the ends of the earth is she so much as asked. He took the stick from her outstretched hand, her lithe body coming behind his, pressing against him as she helped angle his shot and hit the fresh racked balls.  
His head was spinning. She went to his head better than expensive alcohol. And she was taking her free time to spend with him. She chosen him. He’d play as much pool as she wanted.  
Especially as she teased and smiled and looked like she was enjoying herself.

“This is how I made ends meet for a bit. Everyone would underestimate me, and it would be their downfall, and meant that I would have a money for a meal.” Rey said as she went about re-racking for a second ‘game’.

His muscles had tensed, a low growl coming from somewhere deep within at the thought of her struggling. Rey, petted his chest as if to calm him, “Kylo, I’m good now.”

“Ben.” He snapped out his name. He was already too on edge, just a couple on sentences of the harshness she had to endure, and he felt read to come out of his skin. He needed wanted to be the person who she spoke to about this, wanted all of her stories, but he needed it as him. Ben. Not Kylo.

“Excuse me?”

“My name. Ben. Kylo is for tattooing.”

“And Ben is for…personal?” The sound of his fucking name, coming from her lips charged his blood.

He gave a nod as he watched something bloom across her expression and fought the urge to pull her in and devour her light.

“So, you want to be personal with me Ben?” She looked excited, vibrating with energy under her composed surface, she truly was a master of them, he wanted her to bleed her colors all over him. Wanted the side she didn’t show to the world. She would show it to him.  
He knew it.  
Could feel it.  
Knew she would break apart in his arms, knowing that he would put her back together time and time again. Giving her everything she could possibility need.

He gave another nod, his gaze focused on hers.

“I’d like to be personal with you too Ben.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter: [SuchaPrettyPSN](https://twitter.com/suchaprettypsn/)  
>   
> Tumblr: [SuchaPrettyPoison](http://www.suchaprettypoison.tumblr.com/)  
>   
> Hope y'all are staying safe. And wishing you all the health! It's a stressful time, and I hope everyone is also looking over their mental health.  
> If you want a super soft and fluffy one-shot that [krossartist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/krossartist/pseuds/krossartist) and I co-wrote, then check out [The New Normal](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23610787).
> 
> If you are feeling like you need a fun Reylo fake dating AU, might I recommend [Happy To Help](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22154812/). I can promise you it's a good time, cause you know: **Sometimes you just need your neighbor to pretend to be in a relationship with you. Repeatedly. ******


	3. You'll find a rainbow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I know, everyone is always expecting me to talk about tea and like someone from a period drama.”  
> “And instead you use ‘tit’ a surprisingly amount.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter: [SuchaPrettyPSN](https://twitter.com/suchaprettypsn/)  
>   
> Tumblr: [SuchaPrettyPoison](http://www.suchaprettypoison.tumblr.com/)  
>   
> Inspiration from [Rainbow](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sd5dcjXzuGk) by Kesha  
>   
> 

The air was electric – the energy snapping through the shop a near tangible thing – as Ben busied himself with ‘closing’ the shop. Sundays they closed early, meaning work was done by seven and he had the evening free. Typically.  
Tonight was not a typical Sunday.  
Tonight was his last session with Rey.   
A private session at her request. And how was he supposed to deny that woman anything? His hands were nearly vibrating as he began to set up his station. He was going to be properly alone with Rey. This was no longer out grabbing drinks, or out to the movies, or hanging out with their friends.   
No. This was them alone in his shop. His shop, which had his apartment on the second floor. An apartment where they could be alone. This was intimate. This felt more than personal. More than the friendly flirtation that had developed between them. He would take his cues from her, to see if she wanted to develop more.   
Could she want more from him?   
He wanted to be happy. Wanted her to be happy. And he felt that, they could give that to one another. He wanted to be there for her, to make her smile, to help her fight her battles, to love her.

The bells chimed notifying him that someone had entered, his gaze flicked up to see Rey standing there with the night behind her, her hand moved to turn the lock on the door. He was dumbstruck at the dress she wore, under her leather jacket. His lips parting as she walked over to him as he caught glimpse of her long legs through the dangerously high slits in the floor length dress. It was all barely grey translucent fabric, where he could tell that she wore nothing under the dress. The dress that looked like it was held together with a single thin bow. The bow that her hands were lingering on, playing with the ends, as she bit her lip, “You ready for me Ben?”

Fuck, he was hard.  
This woman.   
Everything about her called to him, and he could do nothing but close the short distance between them. His tongue coming out to moisten his lips as he attempted a welcoming smile, that he was sure was at odds with his intense gaze. He wanted nothing more than to pull her to him and kiss her the way he’d been fantasizing about. To feel her ignite under his touch and melt into him.   
He gave a nod. She stepped closer, slipping free from her jacket, “Are you ready for me?”

The back of her knuckles grazed his abdomen, and he hissed in a breath, a smile pulling at her lips. She knew what she was doing. Knew that she was tempting him. Knew she was putting images in his head of her waiting for him, legs spread, welcoming him into her with that smile and teasing glint.  
Keep it together. All he had to do was make it through this session and be professional.

“Do you want me on back?” She stepped around him to his workstation. The distance allowing him to breath and take stock of his surroundings, giving him a moment to pull himself together and ground in this reality. His heart was pounding a rapid staccato.

He turned to face her, snapping on his glove, “Your side. Like last time.”

Ben had expected her to gather her skirts up and make herself comfortable, her lithe body partially hidden by the material. It was how their previous session had gone.   
He hadn’t prepared himself for her pulling at the bow – releasing it – half of her body exposed. Her hands delicately holding the material to half her body.

And fuck him.  
She was stunning. All long lines with his art gracing her side. Her skin like honey, a dusky pink nipple that was taut and pebbled, and those eyes of hers – watching him intently as he took her in.

“I bought you gummy bears.”

“You sure know how to make a girl feel special.” She moved to lay on her side, flush coloring her cheek bones and chest proving that she wasn’t as collected as she wanted him to believe.  
The complete bravery of this woman. He was in awe. 

“As long as you’re the girl.”

The smile she gave him tore open his chest. Rey could have reached in and grabbed his heart.   
He was pretty certain that it had belonged to her the first time he’d seen her.

* * *

Ben inked part of his soul into her. Permanently giving part of himself to her.

He rarely thought about how personal his work was. Art had always been an outlet, a way to make sense of the chaos of his mind. And this, creating arts for others had always been cathartic – it was something he was good at, a talent that was uniquely his own.  
But now, this was intimate. This was Rey. The woman who walked in on light and made him want to live out of the fog. Who had sparked something in him that made him want to feel alive.  
Every line was made with purpose and intent, made to create a thing of beauty; something that might cause her to smile when she looked at; a piece of art inked onto her skin.

“Bloody tits. Ben.” Rey ground out as he flicked his wrist to put touches on shading of one of the flowers. 

He really did not need to think about tits – her tits. Her tits that were right there and that he could easily bend over and take her exposed nipple into his mouth. It had been an act of the maker, that he got himself together at the sight of her naked form; even as he had been half hard. Her sounds of discomfort helped cool his blood.   
She was everything he could have ever wanted – incredibly strong, a woman made of light even as the dark surrounded her. Who wore a smile that was becoming more and more real every time he saw her, she became comfortable in her own skin. Fucking incredible.

“You English truly have a way with language.”

“I know, everyone is always expecting me to talk about tea and like someone from a period drama.”

“And instead you use ‘tit’ a surprisingly amount.”

“What can I say? I’m classy.”

Smiling lightly, he pulled his machine back and set it on the tray. She was everything he could possibly want, but there was no way he would be able to say that and not come off as overbearing. It was better to keep quiet in times like this.   
Wiping away the excess ink from her skin with the soft paper towel; careful that his touch was delicate even as his mind began to race. The way that the black ink smeared across her sun-kissed skin, triggered him.   
It was too metaphoric.

“You know I’m still fucked up.”

Ben let out a slightly shaky breath, the words had slipped out. He wasn’t supposed to be thinking that about himself. He knew that.   
But, he would never be ‘normal’, never be someone who didn’t have to fight themselves every day, never be someone who was ‘easy’ to deal with. And she had to know that. He had to tell her one last time. Because if she gave him a chance – he would be all in – she would get all of him. The imperfect man.   
He wiped away the last of the ink leaving behind his art and her reddened skin.

Her fingers came up to graze under his jaw, directing his gaze up to meet hers. He swore the universe was in her eyes - in that unique way she had of looking at him, where he felt _fucking_ seen. The thumb of hers caressing his cheekbone, the warmth a grounding force. The smile she wore was at once, both understanding and hopeful.

“Aren’t we all?”

* * *

“I bought this dress, with you in mind.” Rey’s voice cut through the silence as he worked on wrapping up his finished work. Her skin slightly redden from his ministrations, his black gloves a stark contrast, stopped midmotion at her words. He could feel the way her body vibrated under his touch, the energy coursing through her body, the coiled tension.

“Rey--“

His hand came to the flair of her hip – delicate - wishing that his skin was on hers. Wanting the way that the connection burned and electrified; it made him feel alive. She made him feel alive.   
He watched in awe as she pushed herself up to sitting position so that they were on the same level; her hand coming to take his own as she worked the glove off. Her pulse fluttering.  
The energy she was giving off could power his shop.   
He was shaking.  
She was in front of him. No longer as a client. Looking at him as if she could see the best of him.

“And when you say my name; everything just stops.” The smile she wore had his cock at full attention; she pulled off his glove, “It’s amazing.”

Bringing his fingers to her lips, she placed light kisses, her eyes locked on his. He was silent in onslaught of emotions. Fuck, he wanted to pull her to him. Wanted to make her his. To tell her that she was the spark that made him want to feel alive.   
And the smile she wore, brightened. Nearly everyone else, misread his silence – but this slip of a woman understood him.

His hand came to cup her neck, her lips parting in anticipation to meet his. Colors exploded in a kaleidoscope at his first taste of her, his senses coming alive and her grounding him all at once. He pulled her to him, as she slid from his table to his lap. Her legs straddling him, her body molded to him, as she crawled under his skin while her tongue flicked his lip ring. The world shifted under his feet as he pulled off his remaining glove so he could touch her skin, could feel the way she moved her body so that the dress she still partially wore pooled at her feet without the use of her hands. Leaving her bare. Exposed. Open. Vulnerable.  
For him.  
He was addicted to her taste, to the way she felt under his hands, to the way she was burning and humming in pleasure. This woman was magic. Was light. Was worth everything in this life.

Opening his eyes, he met her hooded gaze. It held thousands of words, of promises. 

He lifted up her thigh as he moved up to stand, enjoying the way she clung to him as he left his station behind to take the stairs. He was going to worship her.

* * *

“Oi, Ben. Your girl’s here.” Hux called out across the shop, triggering Ben to lift his gaze to see Rey with the sun slipping behind the horizon, painting the sky a myriad of colors reflecting off of the rain puddles outside causing her to look ethereal – the woman who walked in on light and painted the world in bright hues.

“You know her name asshole.” Rose snapped.

“And, joy. She brought her bodyguard.”

“Ben – am I allowed to bite one of your employees?”

“Think he might be into that.” Ben threw to Rose as Rey approached him with a coffee. 

Rey, who’s smile was all sunshine and truth; a smile that was always a bit brighter when directed at him. His smiled widened as she placed a kiss to his temple and the coffee into his hand.

“You mine?” That spoke to the light that enveloped his soul whenever she was around.

“Yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well there we go - nice and sweet, with a wee bit of heat.  
> Hope y'all are staying safe. And wishing you all the health! It's a stressful time, and I hope everyone is also looking over their mental health.  
> If you want check out [Happy To Help](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22154812/) if you are feeling like you need a fun Reylo fake dating AU. I can promise you it's a good time, cause you know: **Sometimes you just need your neighbor to pretend to be in a relationship with you. Repeatedly. ******

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone - so this story has been yelling at me to write it (like screaming) and here we are.  
> It's a bit different than some of my other stuff, but I'm enjoying it. 
> 
> Hope y'all are staying safe. And wishing you all the health! It's a stressful time, and I hope everyone is also looking over their mental health.  
> Please stay home if you can.
> 
> If you want check out [Happy To Help](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22154812/) if you are feeling like you need a fun Reylo fake dating AU. I can promise you it's a good time, cause you know: **Sometimes you just need your neighbor to pretend to be in a relationship with you. Repeatedly. ******


End file.
